Not a Day Goes By (13 page)

35

I HAD JUST finished my second glass of merlot, considered getting another, then decided not to. I pulled out my Eric Benet CD, placed it in the carousel, and pushed the play button. I had a telephone call to make and I didn’t need to be high. I located my leather organizer and turned to the Ts. My eyes scanned down a couple of names and then came to Raymond Tyler.

I picked up the phone and dialed his number. Right before I punched in the last number I started to hang up, but as with the third glass of wine, I resisted. After a couple of rings I heard the voice that still caused my heart to beat a little faster. It had been over two years since I had spoken with the only one who ever made me think I could spend more than a night with another man.

“Hello.”

“Raymond. How ya doing, guy?”

“Basil. Whassup, dude? I’m surprised to hear from you,” Raymond said.

“So I can still surprise you. That’s a good thing.”

“I guess I shouldn’t say I’m surprised. I really expected to hear from you sooner.”

“Why is that?”

“I figured you guys would make a run at my little brother. He told me you were a part of some firm in New York.”

“Yeah, I gave up the TV thing. I’m a biznessman now,” I joked.

“I’m happy for you. So I guess you know my little brother is now a big-time NFL player,” Raymond said proudly.

“And he’s kickin’ ass. He’s playing for San Diego, right?”

“Yeah. So why didn’t you guys come after him?”

“ ’Cause we heard he was going with the big white firm in Chicago,” I said.

“That’s not true. My pops wasn’t going to let that happen,” Raymond said.

“Who did he sign with?”

“Carl Poston out of Houston.”

“Is he happy with him?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. We brothers have to look out for each other and the Poston Brothers are some of the best in the business,” I said.

“So, if you didn’t call me about my little brother, then what can I do for you? You’re not in trouble, are you?”

Suddenly I got a little nervous and wasn’t ready to ask Raymond to be in my wedding, so I moved the conversation in another direction.

“So how’s your boy?”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, but his name is Trent and he’s doing fine. How’s your boy?”

“What boy?”

“I know you, and you got somebody keeping you warm in cold-ass New York.”

“I do, but it’s not a boy. I’m not swinging that way anymore.”

“You’re kidding, right? So you moved to older men?”

Raymond’s last comment pissed me off and I started to let him know, but I remained calm and said, “I’m in love with a beautiful young lady and I’m getting married in a couple of months.”

“So I guess congratulations are in order. I don’t know what’s going on, but there must be something in the air,” Raymond said.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re the second person I know this year who’s changed the way they swing. I mean, I remember when AIDS came out a lot of dudes started getting married, and it looks like the second wave is occurring.”

“I don’t know about that. All I know is that I’m in love and this is the right thing for me,” I said confidently.

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure.”

“Then I’m happy for you. Send me an invitation and I’ll send you guys a toaster or something.”

“Well, I was hoping for something more,” I said as my stomach started doing somersaults.

“What is that? Help to arrange that last boy fling?” Raymond asked with a
boy I’m having fun fucking with
you
tone in his voice.

I took a deep breath and then in a rushed tone of voice I asked, “Will you be in my wedding?”

There was a brief silence that seemed more like an hour, then Raymond finally said, “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not kidding,” I said firmly.

“Basil, man, we’ve been through this before. Remember when you were going to marry the young lady who you made love to while I slept in your closet?”

“What’s your point?”

“You asked me to be in that wedding, which didn’t take place,” Raymond said.

“Man, that was years ago. I had forgotten about that.”

“I’ll ask you what I asked you then. Why would you want to have someone you once shared an intimate relationship with looking over you while you make a big mistake?”

“This isn’t a big mistake. So you think what we had was intimate?”

“Don’t you?”

“Dude, I didn’t call to talk about us. I just wanted to ask you to be a part of the most important day of my life,” I said, suddenly wishing I’d had that third glass of wine.

“Basil, listen to me. I’m honored that you would ask me to be a part of your big day. But I don’t think it’s such a good idea. I don’t think it’s fair to you or your new bride. And man, when are you going to free yourself?”

“Free myself—what are you talking about?”

“Does your bride-to-be know about your other life?”

“My other life?”

“Let me put it this way. Does she know about me or the other guys you’ve shared—how shall I say this—the men you shared special moments with?”

“That was the past. I love her and she doesn’t need to know.”

“Basil, as long as you have secrets you’ll never be free.”

“Raymond, I didn’t call you for a lecture about my sexual life and freedom. If you don’t want to be in my wedding, just say, ‘Hell no,’ ” I said with an adrenaline-charged voice. I pictured Raymond with a cocky grin on his face. I could feel a thin glaze of perspiration forming on the back of my neck.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just know I shouldn’t. But I wish you nothing but the best. We all deserve to be happy and free,” Raymond said.

I was so mad I wanted to throw the fucking phone in my fireplace, but I said, “Thanks for reminding me how much you gay mofos piss me off!”

36

IT WAS the last week in November and the last week for Yancey’s Vegas stint. Darla and Yancey were walking to the Luxor Hotel for a late supper, enjoying the moon, whose orange sorbet glow seemed to hang over the city. Even though it was late, the air was thick and hot, like a steam bath. Darla had invited Yancey to dinner to talk more about the wedding and promised the best mango margaritas in town.

“Did you see the new guy who just joined the show tonight?” Darla asked.

“The cute Italian guy with that tight body?” Yancey asked.

“Yeah, he’s the real deal,” Darla giggled.

“You sure he’s not one of those
looks like Tarzan but
acts like Jane
guys?”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I tell you what, if he’s all Tarzan, then I’d jump him for a nickel and give him some change back.”

“You’re so wild,” Yancey said as they came to a stop-light. Darla made her smile and that was a welcome pleasure.

“I’m not playin’. Girl, it’s been a while,” Darla said as she moved her large leather bag from her left shoulder to her right shoulder. “I’m so sick of meeting
I’m waiting on a
settlement
guys I don’t know what to do. You know, the ones who are suing their former employer or some store where they slipped on some water. Trying to get rich the easy way. Vegas is full of them.”

When the light turned green and the traffic sign flashed “Walk,” the two started crossing. As soon as they reached the halfway point, Yancey turned to Darla and asked, “So are you going to be in my wedding?”

After a few uncomfortable seconds and right as their feet hit the curb, Darla looked at Yancey and said, “Sure. I don’t know why, since we really don’t know each other that well, but it sounds like fun. You don’t need a flower girl, do you?”

“A flower girl?” She hadn’t thought about a flower girl and assumed Ava would hire one.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know, I need to check with my mother.”

“Well, Mollie will be with me, and I know she would love to do it. Whenever I get a chance to include her with stuff I’m doing . . . well, it’s a mother-daughter thing. When you have children of your own, you’ll understand.”

As they walked through the hotel’s electronic double doors, Yancey gave her a half-amused smile and said, “I don’t think so . . . about the children thing. But sure, Mollie can be in my wedding. We’d love to have her.”

37

I WAS IN my office reading the sports section of
USA
Today
when my assistant buzzed and told me Cavell Clemmons was on the line. I wasn’t expecting to hear from that mofo anytime soon, especially since he still owed me money from bailing his ass out of jail.

I told her to put him through and I hit the speaker button on my phone, put my hands behind my head, and leaned back in my chair, prepared to hear a hard-luck story about my money.

“Mr. Clemmons,” I said. “How in the hell are ya doing, sir?”

“I’m cool.”

“Are you sure?”

“Doing the best I can. I’m just trying to work some things out. But I called to tell you I got your money and I’m going to drop it in the mail.”

“Don’t do that. I’ll send over a messenger.”

“What, don’t you trust the good ole U.S. mail system?”

I started to say it wasn’t the U.S. mail, but a former client who hadn’t called since he left jail and got into a cab with the woman he was caught cheating with. When I got ole dude released I thought he might want to get a decent meal, but he and his lady friend vanished like ghosts once he sniffed the air of freedom.

“No, it’s just easier. When we finish talking, I’ll have Kendra get an address.”

“Cool.”

“So whassup with you and the Mrs.?”

“My soon to be ex.”

“So you’re going to be single again, huh?”

“Yeah, dude, and this time I’m going to protect my freedom like I protect my family jewels,” Cavell joked.

“I hear you, dude.”

“What is this I hear about you getting ready to give yours up?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Man, I heard you are marrying some Broadway babe. My lady, not the wife, said she read it in some gossip column or some shit.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You don’t sound too sure, my brother. Learn from a brotha’s mistake.”

I told Cavell I was cool, but the mention of my upcoming marriage got me to thinking about Yancey and Derrick again. What surprise did he deliver? I was pretty sure dude hadn’t come all the way to Las Vegas after five years to tell Yancey about some sick sister I had never heard her mention. I wasn’t buying that, nor was I prepared to stop trusting Yancey based on one muffled conversation and some flowers. Still, I had had enough surprises in my lifetime from people who loved me. That’s when the
bing
went off in my head.

“Cavell, let me ask you something about your previous situation.”

“Ask away.”

“You couldn’t tell you were being taped? I mean, I thought there was some little beep when phone calls are being recorded.”

“Dude, I told you, she bought some phones from this place called the Spy Store and they looked like regular phones. I didn’t think nothing of it when I came home one day, and my wife was so excited about the new phones she had bought. I mean, she was always replacing shit in our house.”

“So the phones look like real phones?”

“Dude, look like some shit you can buy right at the AT&T phone center,” Cavell said.

“Man, that’s some wild shit,” I mumbled as I scribbled down “Spy Store” on a pad.

“You got somebody you want to record, Basil?”

“Maybe.”

“I can find out where my ex bought the shit and the model number, dude. My lawyer got the information when we did the deposition on my upcoming divorce. He asked her where she bought the phones, how much they cost, and everything.”

“Will you do that for me?”

“Sure, you need to help a brotha out every once in a while. I’ll get on it right now, and try to include it with the check.”

“I appreciate that, Cavell.”

“No problem. Us brothas got to look out for one another when it comes to them versus us.”

“I feel you,” I said. I drew a circle around the words “Spy Store” and then dotted it as if I had just hit the bull’s-eye.

38

CAVELL PROVED to be a man of his word and I received the check and information on the phones. Kendra located a store near the office that had the phones in stock. I told Kendra I wanted to start taping my phone calls at home, just in case we ever ran into problems with clients and the NCAA. When I got to the store the salesman convinced me to buy a new device that was small and not as obvious as the spy phones Cavell’s wife had used. It was the size of a microrecorder but could record up to a week of conversations.

The last couple of times I’ve talked to Yancey she’s seemed troubled. Like there’s something she wants to tell me but can’t. The phone will tell me what’s really on her mind. I hope it’s only because she’s getting nervous about starting a new life with me, but I’ve got to be certain.

I don’t know what I’m going to do if Yancey is cheating on me. But I have to know everything possible about the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. The woman who will bear my children. I told myself that was my reason when I paid cash for a recording device that I could attach to Yancey’s phone. I told myself again when I attached it to her bedroom phone, right next to my picture.

My plan was going off without a hitch until I was on my way out of Yancey’s townhouse. Windsor walked out of the kitchen with a sandwich, potato chips, and a glass of soda. We both surprised each other and, after a few uncomfortable seconds, I told her I had planned a surprise for Yancey’s return. She looked at me and smiled, and then in typically female fashion said, “You are the sweetest man I’ve met in a long time. Yancey is very lucky.”

“Thank you. I’m really looking forward to having Yancey back in New York,” I said.

“You must be excited about the wedding as well,” Windsor said as she set the plate on the bar and put a chip in her mouth.

“Yeah, I am. You will be there, won’t you?”

“Of course. Even though I was a little too hefty to be in the actual wedding party, I’m going to offer to help out any way I can,” Windsor said.

I looked at her closely to see if there was any sadness in her eyes. Yancey had told me it was Windsor who didn’t want to be in the wedding. She said nothing about Windsor’s weight, which didn’t look that bad to me. I thought about what a nice lady she seemed to be, teaching and doing so much volunteer work at Hale House.

“Windsor, are the people at Hale House going to send the receipt directly to my office or my home?”

Windsor was drinking some of her soda but her eyebrows arched and she asked, “What receipt?”

“The one for the donation I gave a couple of months ago.”

“Who did you give it to?” Windsor asked.

“Yancey. Didn’t she give you a check?”

“Yeah, but she didn’t say it was from you,” Windsor said. “A couple of months ago she gave me a check for fifteen hundred, but I assumed it was her personal donation. Do you want me to check with her?”

“Naw, I probably misunderstood her. Maybe it was for some other charity,” I said. Yancey had lied, and now any feeling of regret I had about spying on her was quickly replaced by a sense of duty. I didn’t like anyone playing with my heart—or money.

“I hope I haven’t said anything wrong,” Windsor said. She gazed at me thoughtfully.

“No, Windsor, you haven’t said anything wrong. Look, I’m getting ready to bounce out of here. Now, remember to keep my little surprise a secret. I want to see how long it takes Yancey to discover it.”

“No problem. Your secret is safe with me.”